


Snow's Farewell

by musicalinny



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Angst, F/M, I'm Bad At Summaries, Late Night Conversations, Mild Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:07:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24887344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicalinny/pseuds/musicalinny
Summary: Before and after battle."No promises, huh."
Relationships: Amon Koutarou/Mado Akira
Comments: 4
Kudos: 20





	Snow's Farewell

Amon started questioning himself as he stood in front of her apartment.

Why did he come here again?

He clenched his fist. The battle was tomorrow. Tomorrow, they will take down the Owl.

Tomorrow, they will fulfill Mado Kureo's last wish.

Why was he here again?

He doesn't know.

Knocking on the door at least five times, he waited for a minute then bit his lip.

Maybe she's already asleep.

Turning around, Amon was about to take a step away when he heard the door creak open. He was face to was with Akira, her little eyes widening just a little bit at recognition.

It wasn't really noticeable. But he had always observed his subordinate with clear, eagle-like eyes.

"Amon?" 

He gulped and walked closer, until he was face to face with her. "Akira."

"Do you have something to talk about?" Rubbing her eyes, Akira widened the door opening and gestured for him to enter, "Come in."

Amon stood there, contemplating whether or not he should come in. The plan was just to apologize to her outside, and leave for tomorrow. That was it.

Oh, right. He came to apologize.

What Akira did earlier in the cemetery flashed in his mind.

Clenching his sweaty fist, he removed his shoes and followed Akira through the hallway and to the sofa. Maris Stella sat there, and she gave Amon another deadpan expression and meowed before leaving.

Fixing the cushions, Akira sat down and motioned for him to do the same. Sighing, he sat down stiffly. Her expectant and scrutinizing gaze bore into him, searching the deepest parts of his soul.

He shook his head and faced her. Akira pushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear, looking at him with the same expression as her cat.

"Akira..."

"What?"

"I'm sorry."

"For what, exactly?"

 _Amon Kotaro, I hate your guts_.

Amon bit his lip. Akira sighed and scooted closer, putting a hand on her nape, "I can't hear. Speak louder."

"I-I haven't..." he stammered, how out of character, "spoken anything yet." What's more was that her closeness to him made the script of what he'll say in this moment, the script he spent a day to make, suddenly blank.

"Senior Investigator Amon Kotaro," Akira leaned at the end of the couch and crossed her arms, "If you're here just to play some sort of silent game with me, I'd prefer that you just sleep-"

"Back at the cemetery." He looked at her sternly. Her eyes widened at a noticeable degree but went back immediately to its usual deadpan gaze.

"I'm... sorry."

Akira laughed.

_That's so like you._

"I know you couldn't help pinning me on your old comrade, Amon." Akira held the hem of her shirt tightly, "I'm sorry too, for overstepping my boundaries," her chest swirled, pushing another ugly feeling down her gut, the thought of almost giving her first kiss to a man who was still in love with someone else squeezing her lungs, "It's okay, Sir." Akira smiled faintly and saluted at him. Amon looked at her, dumbstruck and shocked.

_Truly like you._

Akira stood up, "I'll prepare tea. Or if you're leaving already, good night and see you tomorrow."

"Akira, wait!" Amon held her wrist tightly. Akira, taken aback, gulped and faced him, plastering the most neutral expression she can muster-

Only to stop short at his broken expression.

Amon looked at her with pleading eyes, clutching her wrist firmly, "Akira, please, listen to me."

She nodded weakly.

Amon breathed deeply. Contemplation was over.

"You're different from Harima."

The woman scoffed, "Obviously, if our names aren't even a proper distinguish."

"Not in t-that way."

"If you're here to apologize about the kiss, I already told you." Akira looked at him with a blank expression but her bleary eyes betrayed her, "I am sorry for overstepping my boundaries. I didn't mean to do it-"

"I didn't want to stop you."

Akira stilled.

"I," Amon breathed shakily, "care for you, Akira. Different from what I felt towards Harima."

There.

Biting her lip, Akira's voice trembled in the slightest, "What are you trying to say?"

His warm eyes met hers.

Akira's brain filled with countless thoughts, all adding to a heavy load that dropped to her chest. She doesn't understand. She wants to understand. But she can't.

Shakily, her eyes watered, "Why must you make me so confused?"

"I-" he stopped short. Akira was in front of him, on the verge of crying, because of him.

Amon wanted to punch himself in the gut.

_I'm sorry, Mr. Mado. I've hurt what's precious to you._

"I didn't want to say good bye to you, just yet."

The tears in her eyes went back. "What?"

"I felt like," Amon's lips pressed firmly before he spoke, "that kiss was a farewell."

"What, you think I'd just kiss anyone good bye? Is that it?"

"No, Akira! That's not-"

"Please say it in a form an idiot like me can understand." She was aware of the heartbroken expression she was showing in front of him, but who cares, "Or I can just summarize what I think. You still love Harima, don't you?"

Amon didn't speak, and Akira heard something cracking, not sure if it was Maris Stella breaking another mug or something else.

"I'll say this again, I am not her. And I never will be."

Amon wanted her to stop. The pained, vulnerable and on the verge of crying lady in front of him was not the Akira he knew. Not the stoic, composed and strong woman he worked with.

"If it's the Dojima you're worked up about, I'm sorry. I tried redesigning it to not completely erase her traces on it, but it was hard to not remove it because I had to make it strong. It's the Owl we're gonna kill here." The pitch of her voice broke and her head hurt. She just wanted to sleep.

The fact that it was him who made her like this sent a spear to Amon's chest, making breathing harder. He just wanted her to stop talking, stop breaking herself just to reassure him, stop caring-

Akira spoke again, body trembling as a lone tear fell from her right eye, "Senior Investigator Amon Kotaro, you don't have to feel obligated to protect me just because I'm the daughter of your deceased partner."

Snap.

Something snapped.

He pushed her down on the carpet floor and loomed above her, trapping her under him. He wiped the single tear on her cheek, touch lingering as he leaned closer, taking up what's left of her personal space.

"Stop talking."

His lips met hers in a deep kiss.

Hot tears danced on Akira's cheeks as she surrendered, letting him sway her. He kept on ravaging her lips, nipping at hers hungrily as if to make up for lost time.

Amon's lips left hers as he gasped for air and sat upright. Embarrassment washed over him as he realised what he did, "I'm sorry, Akira, I didn't mean to-"

A strong grip made him forget what he was about to say when his back hit the carpet. Akira now loomed over him, sitting on his stomach. Her nimble fingers traced his jawline and he gulped as she leaned closer, lips brushing against his ear and breath against his neck.

"You stop talking."

Their lips met again. Amon's lips curled up into a smile against hers, realizing that she used his line against him. This time, he felt all sense of reason leave his body as she held both of his hands and placed them on her waist. Her fingers tangled with his hair and he knew where this would lead if he doesn't stop himself now.

Stop stop stop stop stop-

A low moan from Akira reverberated from her lips to his, making his lower body heat up even more.

Screw it, he thought, lifting her up and carrying her blindly towards her bed.

Setting her down hastily, Amon ripped off his tie and removed all his upper clothing, leaving him in his pants. Crawling to her, he removed her crossed arms slowly and held her cheek, eyes asking for permission.

A kiss on the forehead from her was enough.

_Mr. Mado, forgive me._

"Don't die," Akira whispered as he helped her remove her clothing, breathing shakily as he traced his lips from her jaw on the crook of her neck,

"Live for me," she sighed as his hands caressed her bare chest, warm and calloused at the same time hers went up to glide slowly, feeling his well-sculpted body,

"Please." She let out a breathless cry as he went inside her and she surrendered her whole body under his power. A mix of sweat and tears trailed down her face down to her neck as she went high, vision blacking as she whimpered and screamed under his panting form.

Akira's vision went blurry as exhaustion took over her system. She felt a brush of warm lips on her forehead before she passed out, and she thought she saw a tear fall from Amon's eye as he laid beside her, whispering on her ear, "No promises."

_

"No promises, huh." Flakes of snow fell from the sky, making her vision even more blurry. The tranquil cold wind wheezed and brushed her tear-streaked face, fading and replaced with a cloud of white fog.

Catching a snowflake on her palm, Akira gazed once more at the broken quinque on the snowy road. Her breath made a small fog, blocking for a few seconds her vision from the bloodstains around the weapon. The body of her love nowhere to be found.

"Father..."

The Owl was dead.

And so was her heart.

**Author's Note:**

> I like the concept of blood on snow. Do you?
> 
> Also, inspired by a fic I read. Just had to write that time in my own imagination. ;)


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